


Birds of a feather

by DrivingStraight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blow Jobs, Consent, M/M, Mutual Pining, Power Dynamics, Unresolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrivingStraight/pseuds/DrivingStraight
Summary: Draco's first match of the season doesn't go well. Harry seeks him out afterwards.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	Birds of a feather

**Author's Note:**

> This started out a lot more rough and tumble but when I got to writing it mellowed out. I think it might have a part 2?Let me know if you'd be interested in reading more! Ive never switched POVS like this in my stories but I found it really helpful, hope it reads well! I am betaless so please excuse typos etc. Happy to have errors pointed out to me if you see them (nicely please!)

DPOV:

He’d thrown his broom down as soon as he’d dismounted and walked, back straight, shoulders tight, eyes forward off the field. Stopping only when he had crossed the threshed of the pitch under the cover of the concrete arch, now shielded from the crowd by the walkway to the different locker rooms. He stopped. Not for anything in particular, he hadn’t run into someone or paused to take off the pads and guards that made flying safe but walking a chore. He had simply stopped. Aimless for moment, mind blank. He’d achieved his goal of getting away from the eyes of thousands of spectators and so he’d idled for a breath before making his next move. What was his next move?

When a hand landed firmly on his shoulder it broke the empty spill of his mind and Draco spun and flung his right arm out as if he was holding a wand. No thought had propelled the action, just a surge of adrenalin in a body primed for a fight. Yet he found that all he had in his grasp was the leather of his glove and the muscle memory of the slim wood that was only absent when he flew, as per regulations. 

When his mind caught up with his body his eyes finally conveyed to his brain that it was Harry that stood before him. Harry that had followed him off the pitch like a stray fucking dog and was now looking at him with a stupid earnest that Draco longed to slap off. Draco exhaled an ‘of course’ dropped his empty hand and resisting the urge to roll his eyes so hard they would never come back he turned on his heel then and swept away. He left Harry standing dumbly, his lips parted as if he’d been about to say something. Something useless no doubt. 

HPOV: 

The blond man stormed away from him, burning. To Harry he may as well have been aflame as he filled the hallway in front of him. Colour so rarely touched Draco’s skin that the faint flush on his cheeks was as obvious as Ron’s burning face when stammering he had approached a woman who would one day be his sister in law. 

Perhaps, if you didn’t know him you would have thought the tint was due to the hard flying he had just done… But Harry did know him. Draco was not exerted he was furious. Furious, but worse than that he was embarrassed, shamed… His ears had that soft rosy hue he’d seen only when Lucious had chastised his son in public. If he’d been merely angry he would have sneered and spat his way to the dressing room, but his mouth had been tight and thin. His lips pushed together till they had all but disappeared. 

It was Draco’s first official match with the Falcons. Unfortunately for everyone involved the match had been drawn against the Magpies. The Prophet had been riling up the fans all week. The narrative too good for selling papers for them to worry about the ethics involved… Not that they would have considered them in any case. Harry sometimes wished he had heeded Hermione’s advice to keep a contact on The Prophets staff. Instead he refused them interviews and endorsements. He would only appear in that rag if mandated by his Magpies contract. His heavy investment into their competitor paper The Oracle didn’t help things and prevented him from having any sway in what they printed which usually didn’t bother him but this last week… 

_Potter and Malfoy finally face off!_

Screamed the front page on an otherwise slow news week.

_Former enemies will face each other seven years after their last match on the Hogwarts pitch. No doubt a huge source of shame to Falcon fans Malfoy was recently signed to the team in what is clearly a stunt by Captain Eddie Davis who was quoted yesterday as saying_

_“Draco will be a fine addition to the team. He’s a Wiltshire lad born and raised so it’s only right he come back to represent the south-east. The team are happy to have him and despite some dubious reporting there is no tension surrounding the appointment’_

_Davis of course known for his odd picks and his many hits to the head as a beater for the Magpies is not a fan favourite on the team and this decision has certainly not done anything to improve things for the young captain._

_Fans are apparently not the only ones put out by the pick. Team members who have asked to remain anonymous have confirmed significant pushback from both first string and reserve players. They question not only Malfoys appointment as seeker but Davis’s competency as Captain.  
Despite the public appearance of a draw between the two men these questions remain unanswered: Will Malfoy earn his stripes this weekend? Will Potter beat him yet again? And can The fallen Falcons take the humiliation either way? _

The chanting had echoed through the locker rooms before the team had made their way to the pitch. They couldn’t make out the words just the fever of the singing crowd above them. 

‘They’re lively’ grinned Sabine at Harry as they strapped on their shin pads. She was right, but something was off, it was too early in the season for this kind of energy. Something had the crowd baying for blood and Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he knew what it was… Only when their Gillian Cross walked into the room looking tense were his suspicions confirmed. 

‘Things are a bit… eh… Political out there’ she had said in response to his raised eyebrow

‘Political?” He asked as the rest of the team fell silent and looked between them

“They not happy about Malfoy. Fans have got it into their heads that is some sort of showdown’

Harry had sunk down on the bench deflated and let his head hit the wall 

‘For fucks sake Gill… “

His captain strode forward then and put her hands on his shoulders, pulling on them till his head tilted back to her and he made eye contact 

‘Keep your head clear Potter. This is about one thing and one thing only. Getting that shiny ball like the good golden retriever you are. You know that and Malfoy knows that” 

Harry had looked her dead in the eyes and replied stonily 

“Send on Dempsey”

Dempsey shouted in protest at the mention of his name 

“Fuck off Potter! I’m a reserve not a fucking sacrificial lamb’

Gill waved a dismissive hand at the woman and looked back to Harry 

“You don’t tell me who plays Potter. You’re fit and able. Go catch the ball and don’t lose your temper. You can write a strongly worded letter to the editor on your own time” 

She was right of course. He had no solid reason not to play. He just didn’t want to. He didn’t like  
other people deciding what battles he should fight… Funny that… 

In the stands the words were finally clear enough for him to hear. As the two teams had lined up waiting for the Captains to shake hands and the balls to be let loose. The chant rang out and he felt like he could burn a hold on the ground where he stood. 

_You’re not one of us  
Your team already lost  
Not our seeker  
Just a death eater  
You’re not one of us_

The Falcons were jeering their own seeker… Harry’s hands gripped his broom handle so hard he thought it would splinter in his hands. The irony of the attack was not lost on him. The song was set to the tune of Weasley is our king. Clearly some former students were to blame from getting it going pre match. 

His eyes were glued to Draco. The pale man looked even paler against the black and grey of the Falcons uniform. It suited him. Harry couldn’t imagine him in the garish orange of the Cannons or the bright sky blue of the Arrows. Maybe Harpies green… Harry shook his head slightly dislodging the uncomfortable image of Draco in the altered Harpies uniform Ginny had worn for Halloween last year… Neville had lasted an hour before apparating them back home. Ginny was fire in that get up… Draco would be ice…cold, hard, unyielding until something convinced him to melt… This was getting out of hand. 

The Magpies fans had joined in with the chanting now and the din was deafening. The captains shook hands and exchanged a few extra words both looking weary. Harry saw Davis the Falcons captain cast a look back at Draco and then shake his head as if to say ‘Don’t worry about him’, maybe Draco had received a similar pep talk as Harry. Draco, whos’ face was like stone. Draco who had gone deep into himself. Harry had seen him look like this before and hated to see again after so many years. 

The trail was one of the reasons the publics opinion of Draco Malfoy had never really recovered. Despite the fact that he’d been acquitted, that Harry himself had given evidence in his defence and requested leniency. Despite the fact that Hermione had given an impassioned speech on the need for forgiveness for the children on both sides of the war. Despite all this…The papers had reported that Draco was unrepentant, cold, distant and unfeeling. When the truth was that he was in shock. He’d been held in Azkaban between turning himself in and the trial. Recently orphaned and totally alone in the world. Draco was coping the only way he knew how. He had shut down. It had taken two years before Harry had seen any life in the man… It was sickening to see it gone again, especially when this day should have been filled with excitement and match nerves… Especially it was his presence that was making it not be. 

His friendly match’s had been uneventful by all accounts. The crowds had shouted a few insults here and there but no one had any complaints when Draco had caught the stitch both times. No one with eyes could deny that Draco was a skilled player and an great addition to the Falcons as they tried to rebuild their reputation. It was a good fit Harry had thought when he had heard. Both the team and Draco were known for their fierceness. Both had fallen from grace and were determined to turn their luck once more. The teams motto was ‘Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads’ for merlin’s sake. If they let him, he could be their salvation…

DPOV:  
The boos and jeers of the crowd as the flickering wings stilled in his grasp were like a punch to the gut. If he had any breath left the swift impact of it would have left him gasping. But he had no breath. Blocks of ice didn’t breathe. 

He had sunk deep into himself while he soared over the pitch searching for the glint of gold that would turn the crowd’s ire to elation. He had tuned out the chanting from hands waving black and white flags and those of black and grey… No one was on his side but he could change that. He could exceed expectations as he had done countless times before in his life and he could get them the result that wanted. He would win and they would cheer and that would be that. Any time he faced Potter from then on it would be less loaded. Just another match, not some pantomime The Prophet could sell papers about. 

But the crowd didn’t want the win. They wanted to see him fail. They had wanted Potter to swoop in and prove them right and for Davis to look the fool. They had wanted him to be put on the reserves for the season and for his contract to not be renewed when it ended… That’s what they had wanted… As he started his descent he heard the chants take up again 

_Go back to Azkaban  
Play quidditch there if you can  
Ask the Aurors If you’re not banned  
GO BACK TO AZKABAN _

He’d had heard that Azkaban had a team now. Since they stopped running the place like a war crime one could even finished their education and get a job lined up before release… Maybe he should go back to fucking Azkaban. 

His feet touched the ground and where he would usually hold the struggling snitch aloft to the cheers of the crowd he dropped the angry ball where he stood, dismounted, abandoned his broom and walked head held high off the field. He’d done his job. He hadn’t asked for feedback. 

The changing room was for the moment blessedly quiet. He pulled open his locker and retrieved his wand first and foremost tucking it up his sleeve. He sat then and began to pull pads and guards from his body till he was left in only the soft black trousers and the grey Henley style shirt of the under uniform. He ran his fingers through his hair and wandlessly ended the spell that held it back out of his face when he flew. 

He thrummed with energy. Energy he had nowhere to safely dispense. There was no apparition out of the locker rooms for privacy of the players. Or the pitch, for safety. He would have to walk back and out to the nearest point. There was no way of avoiding people and he didn’t trust himself yet. He would wait. Wait till the building emptied out a bit and then he would leave. He wasn’t going to skulk away under a charm. He would walk out of the building as he had walked off the pitch, with his head held high. He just didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of assault charges being thrown at him that evening. He had to be present for the post-match with Davis anyway. He’d could hold himself in check around his teammates and then leave. 

He could hear voices in the hallway now. The buzz of victory spilling in his direction. He wondered how fast it would retreat upon seeing him. 

HPOV: 

Aster bounced down the hallway towards him. She was grinning and joking with Pip and a man Harry didn’t know. Her team had won, and she was elated. The Falcons come back tour had begun and Aster he knew was determined to hitch her fortune to its rise. 

‘Ah Potter!” she sang “Have you come to get some tips?” she was wicked in nature and grinned devilishly at him

“Not from you Aster, you throw quaffles like a drunk throwing darts at the Leaky… That is to say… Not well” 

Aster burst out laughing and hugged Harry roughly as they met. 

“This is only the beginning Potter, you should be scared!” 

Harry returned the hug and looked at her seriously 

“Oh I am… Listen”

Aster sobered a bit 

“I haven’t seen him yet, and I don’t know who talked to The Prophet. It wasn’t me” 

Harry shook his head. He knew it wasn’t Aster or Pip. He figured it was one of the younger players signed alongside Draco. Unhappy to be counted amongst him and in need of the cash more than any of the more established team members. 

“I know. Just a heads up… Don’t let people crowd him in there. He can be…” 

“Like a cornered animal? I’ve noticed. I’ll make space if I can… Should I tell him you..?”

Harry cringed and held up his hands in immediate protest 

“Fuck no. We’ll all be in Mungos or Azkaban if you say I’ve been sniffing around him. Just…keep an eye” 

Aster nodded and then smiled again 

“Let me buy you a pint? To soothe the pain I know you must be in” She teased 

Harry rolled his eyes 

“I’ll be by. Try not to be too far gone to remember that offer by the time I get there” 

Aster swirled away down towards the Falcons changing room flanked by the two smaller men and shouted over her shoulder

“No promises!” 

And she was gone. The door closed behind her hiding any chance he had to see a glimpse of blond beyond. 

Harry went back to his own locker room to face what he knew would be a tense team and an angry captain. They should have won that match. The Falcons were recovered and on the start of a winning streak but they should have had them. They’re team was more settled, no new additions this season. They flew together daily. They knew themselves. Harry was not some secret weapon on this team he was just another part of the whole that Gillian worked hard to keep oiled and moving smoothly at all times.

For his part Harry had flown like his life depended on it and in a way it did. If he’d been perceived as even slightly off his game due to Draco’s presence the papers would be unbearable, and his team would have been sorely let down. However, his main motivation for playing the game of his life was Malfoy himself. Malfoy who would have done time for him if he hadn’t. 

He couldn’t fathom the fury that would rain down upon him if Draco thought he was holding back or not giving him the match he deserved. So, he had thrown himself into it. He played one of his best matches of the season on that pitch and anyone who knew anything about the game would have to concede that. And yet, he had lost. He could never had won. Draco had held the snitch from the moment the whistle blew and they both knew it. There was nothing more motivational to Malfoy then thousands of screams for his failure. If they wanted to see him benched, they had gone about it the wrong way because Draco Malfoy would burn the world before losing a match in front of those fuckers. Harry and every other Seeker in the league was in serious trouble. 

DPOV: 

For the most part they ignored him. A few begrudging ‘Well dones” had been tossed his way as they passed him tucked in the corner of the room. Back against his locker reading as if the book in his hands was the most interesting thing he had every beheld. 

Aster Mendes and Pip Summers clapped his shoulder and ruffled his hair respectively and then backed off and let him be. He knew he was throwing out daggers in every direction. It was a skill he had inherited from the most ancient and noble house of Black. His mother and Aunts were skilled at it and now it was his duty to keep up family tradition. The air around him was a degree cooler than comfortable and he knew anyone who stayed in his presence too long would feel the metallic tang of unwelcome soon enough. His father had called it ‘his mother’s little trick’ and had told him to use it himself was cowardly and womanish… Fucker. It was what kept him and his mother unharmed and unmolested for the months when his Father had allowed his home to be desecrated. He’d take cowardly and womanish over wandering hands and unwelcome attention any day. Now it spilled outwards a reflex and while he could feel any good will toward him shirking with its emission, he could not make himself pull it inward. 

He’d try again another day. Not now. 

When Davis had stormed into the room Draco had closed the book on his finger marking the place and looked up to his captain. 

“I was talking to the ref, Gill and a few of the board members who were around. We need to make a statement about our fans behaviour before this gets any worse. The board is talking penalties for us if we can’t control our supporters’ 

There was general outcry around the room. Annoyance that the sweetness of the win was being soured. 

“What are we to do about it if they want to sing silly songs?’ Said Chester, one of the chasers and from what Draco had observed so far, a bit of a whinge. 

Davis sat heavily and began to remove his gear. Took a deep breath before returning 

“They’re not silly songs you dullard. They are dangerous songs. They are songs that are threating and unwelcoming to one of our team members” 

Draco heard a scoff on the other side of the room. It was Amy Pence. 

“He’s not here a wet day Davis. If the fans haven’t warmed to him… well…” She said looking pointedly towards Draco 

“Can you blame them?” 

Davis regarded Draco for a moment. Alone and stiff in the furthest part of the room. He could bench him. Let him play out his contract as a reserve and be done with this hassle. Draco and everyone in the room knew that. He’d be within his rights and it would solve what was potentially a huge PR problem for a team who was already struggling to scrape back its former glory. Davis’s eyes left Draco and landed back on Amy. 

“And what happens Pence, when they turn on you?”

“What?’ She said stunned ‘why would…” 

“What happens when you fumble the quaffle too many times as you showed yourself more than capable of doing in today’s match and the fans turn on you? Or when they dig up dirt on someone here that they fancy getting fired? Anyone’s daddy have a muggle mistress? Someone’s sister having a fling with a minister? … Or maybe a granny who was only too happy to turn in hiding halfbloods?”

Pence was pale and stock still. The room like Davis had just cocked a gun and hadn’t decided where to aim it next. Then he exhaled and released Amy from his hard stare. 

“We all have skeletons in our family closets. All of us…And I for one don’t fancy being yelled at for things that were not my fault or that I have done my bloody penance for. Particularly when I play” 

David standing now, his voice angry but low and controlled his face red as he scanned the room again. 

‘Now, whoever has been talking out of turn to reporters had better step in line or start looking for another job because I won’t tolerate it. I may not have been your first pick for captain, but I am your captain and Malfoy is your seeker and as such will be afford all the solidarity of that fact regardless of how long he has been here or how well he is playing, which for the record is a lot better than most of you today” 

He softened slightly as he drew to a close

“This team is on the up lads. I will not have anyone weigh it down’ 

The room was stunned silence. Draco knew his mouth was had fallen slightly and snapped it shut. He needed to keep his face neutral. He knew eyes were flicking between himself and Davis. 

Now divested of his uniform David turned to Draco directly

“You played a blinder Malfoy. I apologise for the welcome you received but if it fuelled that performance then I can’t say I regret it too much. Though it won’t be repeated so you’d better find something else to inspire that kind of play’ Davis looked away from him then and stared down the rest of the team

“Board has ruled that if the fans repeat the behaviour they’ll be banned from the stands for a match and if it continues after that then the season” he held up a hand at the outraged noises that began to form

“Fortunately, that won’t be necessary as Draco here is going to be snapped by a Prophet photographer having fun and being celebrated by his teammates in the pub this evening and tomorrow we will be releasing a statement decrying their behaviour and solidifying our support of our newest member…Is that clear?

There was a moments silence which was broken by Pips gentle voice 

“What about the Pies? Their fans didn’t exactly help matters”

Davis Nodded “Gillian is releasing her own statement saying as much. Same rules apply for them’ 

Pip smiled then 

“Can’t say fairer than that. Malfoy what are you drinking? I’ll get your first one in for that sickening dive you managed!”

Eyes fell on him. His move. He was being offered an olive branch and he needed to take it. He cleared his throat and pulled in as much of the fog as he could that surrounded him. Invisible and unnoticed by most until is ebbed away. In a soft rough voice that he hadn’t planned on using that evening until he was at home alone and trusted himself to open his mouth again. 

‘A pint. Thank you, Summers. I’ll get the second to take the sting out of that appalling call the ref made on your save’ 

Pip laughed and the tension in the room broke like drops of rain falling through a heavy humid sky. One by one and then all together the team turned back to their business and started to ready themselves for an evening of celebration. Draco nodded tightly at Davis who returned the gesture as Draco went back to his book.

HPOV: 

Pip and Aster saluted him as he stood not quite outside but certainly too close to the door of the Falcons dressing room. The rest of the team depending on age and maturity level either ignored him completely or tried to control the squeals of surprised they felt build in them upon seeing the saviour of the wizarding world not just as a blur high above them on the pitch but as a solid man leaning against a nearby wall. A man who, if you knew him well and they didn’t, looked tense. 

Davis was the only one to stop as passed. 

‘Potter’ 

‘Davis’ 

The men took the measure of one another for a moment before Davis sighed and let go the pretence of authority. 

“Please don’t start a fight Potter. I need his face pretty for a candid in the ‘Beaters Bat’ later on and for a press conference tomorrow’

Harry looked at Davis. He was fraught, in severe need of a pint and Harry pitied the man immensely in that moment. Davis had been second pick for the position, had taken some serious risks with his team selection and now his season had opened to just shy of mutiny from both fans and team. But he’d caught Davis’s speech just now… He was a good man. If the Falcons shed a few of the non-team players that lurked amongst their ranks he had a chance of doing what he so desperately wanted to do. Not that he’d tell Gillian that. His loyalty to the Pies and his ability to walk were unshakable. 

‘I’m not here to cause trouble. Just want a word to clear the air. None of us want a repeat, right?’ 

Davis didn’t look convinced, but he was also too tired to chaperone and so shrugged 

‘Just get heal anything visible on each other and make it to the Bat before closing’ he said and walked quickly towards the nearest apparition point. 

Harry took a deep breath before pushing open the door that he had stood century to for the better part of an hour and felt his watch had been rewarded ten times over with the sight that met him….

Draco Malfoy looked like a centrefold in Wizards of The Week, a publication that Harry had no problem giving his resounding endorsement. Usually at leisure and on a Sunday morning. His toned back was to Harry and he was in action but stilled immediately on hearing the door. Leaving him undershirt half pulled from his chest, his arms crossed overhead. His soft cotton training trousers hung around his hips revealing two perfect dimples on his lower back. The drawstrings had been loosened in anticipation of the shower that Harry knew Draco must be in desperate need of but instead of finishing the pull of the shirt and throwing it into the nearby hamper as expected Draco instead reverse the motion roughly and turned to face Harry as his slim fingers went to his lower stomach and tightened those hanging drawstrings once more… Which was fine… Harry swallowed the saliva that had pooled in his mouth and was happy that Draco was no longer distractingly half dressed. 

“What do you want Potter?” 

He was angry. He seemed to radiate displeasure and Harry wanted to wince away from him. 

“Are you okay?” 

He sounded as weak as he felt in the taller man’s presence. When did Draco get tall? Harry certainly had him in build, Draco was still lithe and taut like a knotted rope where Harry had widened as he grew. He’d had to stick to cardio to stop building muscle lest he be moved to a beater instead of the position of the smallest team member. Draco was definitely a comfortable inch and a half taller than Harry now and it made him want to pull the man downwards to close the distance. Focus. 

Draco was smiling sickly at him in response. 

“Will you be seeing Weasley anytime soon?” 

Harry had whiplash from the change in direction in conversation. It took him a second to comprehend and answer the question 

“Eh yes… Tomorrow. Sunday lunch” 

Draco nodded; arms folded across his hard chest

“Tell him I’m sorry, won’t you? 

Harry finally caught up and snorted a short laugh

“For Weasley is our King?’ he asked grinning 

Draco nodded 

“Yes Potter, for Weasley is our bloody King” 

DPOV: 

Similar to a stray dog Potter was undeterred by the first dismissal. He’d hung about looking for scraps and to say Draco was not in the mood for being nudged and bumped for attention was an understatement. The dark-haired boy was like a lodestone around his neck. No matter what turn he took with his life there stood Potter around every corner. Delivering heartfelt testimonies on his behalf in court, providing a reference when no one else would, sending Hermione over to his house when he’d heard he needed legal advice, making a statement in The Oracle that any team would be lucky to have him, sending him a sodding Christmas card and worse of all… Offering to let him meet Teddy Lupin… His little cousin who had his cheekbones, his mother’s cheek bones… Teddy who was the only relative alive that didn’t know what he had done… and even he in some way belonged to Harry Bloody Potter. 

“What do you want Potter’ he repeated his tone serious now

Harry pulled his hands from deep in his pockets and looked up from his shoes

‘Really?’ Harry asked his eyes flicking nervously towards him 

“Yes, really! You dolt! I am tired, filthy and am required to go and drink with a team the majority of whom hate me and the rest who I suspect only tolerate me due to once again your fucking influence, so yes Potter what do you want!?” 

He was shouting now. The room frigid and roiling with sharp tangy anger and then it broke, pierced like a hot knife through butter as his back hit the wall. His head buffered from impact by the cupping of Potter palm on the back of his neck, the other palm flat on his chest keeping him pinned. He’d been pulled downwards the gap between them closing but stopping just short so that he could feel hot little breaths against his lips but not the solid push of the other man’s mouth

“You. Desperately” Harry exhaled painfully, as if it cost him more than just the air in his lungs to get those words out. 

Draco hands had grabbed futilely at Harrys forearms, the men locked in a parody of a dancer’s frame. Which he supposed was apt. They had danced since they were children, why not now. 

“Draco…?” Harry said his grip loosening slightly 

“Do you want this?” His eyes had become uncertain and his breathy voice was hardening in anticipation of a rejection. 

He hated Harry for that. For letting him have a say. If he’d crushed their lips together, pushed his hands up his shirt and pulled urgently at his drawstrings then Draco could have claimed shock, could have stolen a few moments before pushing the shorter man off in disgust. But Potter would never take something that wasn’t offered and fuck if he wasn’t hotter for it. If his holding off like a mad dog on a leash didn’t make Draco burn, seeing how Harry had to control himself, how he was willing to do as he was told. Sit, stay… Good Potter. 

Fuck.

Draco closed the gap and Harry moaned beneath him. In pleasure or relief Draco wasn’t sure but the heat of it went straight to his hardening cock. Harry pushed himself flush against Draco’s body now and he could feel how much Harry did in fact want him pressed against his hip. 

When he thought of this… When he let his mind wander along with his hands. When he stopped pushing green eyes from his mind’s eyes and managed to remind himself that no one could see the inside of his eyelids and he could fuck his palm to whatever he damn well please… When he thought of this… He was always the one pushing, closing the distance, pulling whimpers out of bronze and yielding body beneath him. The Harry in his mind was never this warm and urgent. He didn’t need to nip to get this man to open his mouth, the tip already traced the seam of his own desperate lips and when they breeched, past teeth and met his own pressing tongue the sigh that followed broke something inside him. He never expected soft sounds… Soft hands… 

The cold press of the brick on his back and the hard press of the slightly larger man against his chest kept him grounded. The kiss grew hot and demanding now, Harry knew he could be pushed away at any moment and was trying to learn his as quickly as he could … He knew him better than Draco thought… Knew if enough blood reached the blonds brain this could end in a heartbeat. 

“Fuck” laughed Potter as he pulled back gasping breath. He moved his hand from Draco’s neck and pushed hair from his face instead, looked intently for a moment into Draco’s grey eyes. 

“Okay?” he asked out of breath as if his feet had just hit the ground after a hard training session. His face flushed like he’d just chased down a glittering snitch on a cold morning. Why was that so hot? The ardour in his voice. Draco nodded tightly in reply and moved forward to regain the lips only to find Harry fingers tightening on his chin and preventing the move 

“Say it” he said hotly “Say you want it” his other hand was falling down the front of his chest seeking the hem of his shirt, his fingers stilled there, a promise to be fulfilled 

“Why?” Draco gritted out between his teeth 

Harrys fingers lifted the material and started gliding across his tight muscle which clenched in response to the light touch 

“Because I want to hear it. …That you want it too... You do, don’t you?” lust mixed with desperate uncertainty should not be as intoxicating as it was to Draco.

The hand was tracing his ribs now. Ticking upwards as if counting them, step by step and Harry looked deranged. Like a man on the edge of a cliff, one foot hanging over the precipice. He wanted desperately to be pushed. 

“Yes. I want it.” 

HPOV: 

He dropped to his knees at that omission. Pushed his nose into the taut muscle of Draco’s lower stomach and felt the slight give and softness there. Absurdly his first thought was that’s where you should stab him… It might be the only soft part of him… His lips curled against the soft skin in amusement at his own bizarre thought and he huffed a tiny laugh. 

“What?” a sharp voice above him asked. 

Harry just shook his head and continued to nose in the dusting of fine golden hair that promised so much more. His hands followed his decent, running blunts nails down Draco’s side as they went, Harry relishing in the hiss it pulled from the man. He let his palms come to rest on narrow hips. His thumbs swept across the sharp juts of bone that pushed out from Draco’s body. Those deep V’s that Harry imagined tracing with his tongue on more than one occasion now finally within reach and Harry pressed closer still. Draco smelled of fresh sweat and Harry was glad he’d interrupted him before his shower, even more so when he pressed an open mouth kiss to his jutting hip and ran a tongue across the sharp edge and he tasted salt on warm skin, so much warmer than it looked. 

He sat back on his heels for a moment and looked at Draco as he reached for the drawstring of his sweats. Draco had let his head and shoulders rest against the wall, the rest of him angled out, his hips the further point. He looked like he was offering himself up. He was pink again but not ashamed this time. This was a different kind of colour on the usually pale man. His lips looked like he’d been eating berries and the flush wasn’t in the apples of his cheeks but rather high on the bones of them, the rosy hue didn’t tinge his ears but rather ran up his neck and into his hairline. He looked like an old black and white movie turning to colour… Like Dorothy stepping into Oz… 

Harry loved it. That he had this effect on Draco Malfoy… But then he had always been able to pull strong reactions from the cold boy just like Draco had always been able to get under his skin. 

Drawstrings now loosed he slid the fabric down and exposed long pale legs and the outline of a unfairly thick hard cock. Harry’s mouth watered and he looked back to Draco for permission. Draco’s lips were parted and wet as if Harry has just missed him licking them, his eyes were wild, pupils blown and locked on Harry. He looked… Well like sex, but around the edges he also looked… Like a Cornered animal… The words rang back to him from earlier. 

“Can I suck your cock Draco?” He asked sweetly, hoping to ease some of the tension that was clinging to the taller man’s edges. 

“Christ, you like to talk don’t you Potter?” Draco huffed exasperated 

Encouraged by Draco’s irritation rather than apprehension Harry traced his lips over the bulge Infront of him. The thin material keeping him from something he’d wanted for longer than he knew or wanted to interrogate really 

“Yeah, I do a bit… Does it bother you?”

Draco didn’t answer him, instead he felt tentative fingertips slip into his hair… He’d expected grabbing twisting pulls from a cold grasp but instead Draco just pushed through the messy mop of hair, the only pressure a slight massaging on his scalp… The tenderness astonishing him… and then the spell broke 

“Let’s shut you up, shall we?” Came the haughty reply and the slim fingers left his hair to hook inside his waistband, pushing downwards revealing the loveliest cock Harry had ever seen. His mouth flooded and he couldn’t help but lick his lips and look up wolfishly at Draco from beneath heavy lids. 

“Yes please” he said and then lowered his head and set to work. 

DPOV: 

Harry Potter sucked cock like he played quidditch, like he’d been born to do so, and he knew it. The enthusiasm and determination of his hot mouth working Draco’s dick would frankly have undone lesser men than him. As it was Draco had to breath slowly and deeply in order to not thrust recklessly upwards into the heat of the saviour of the wizarding worlds mouth. 

His hand slipped like a traitor back into the silky inky stands of hair. He couldn’t deny himself this one small thing, compromised as he was. When he thought of how many times, he had resisted that urge. Harrys hair always looked a mess, no different starting a match to when he finished so Draco was always surprised to find how fucking soft it was and how its curled so gently around each of his questing fingers. The image of his hand running through black locks as they ley entwined in bed flashed behind his eyes, Harry panting beneath him with want as he pushed into him, petting and soothing him, gentle hands turning harsh and twisting the strands as he tipped over. 

‘Fuck Potter’ he gasped in warning, the heat pooling in his belly and his legs tensed as he felt himself about to fall over the edge, his traitorous imaginings the final straw 

Harry didn’t let up. Instead, he doubled down, pulling Draco closer with a hand on the back of his upper thigh, his pace steady, his hot tongue lapping at the tip of Draco cock with each pull

“H...Potter, I can’t…I..” he hated how weak he sounded… Like he was begging for air or water… A dying man…A burning boy reaching upwards…

“Let go” came the rough instruction from below. Looking down he saw the wrecked face looking back at him. So much worse than any fantasy his boring mind could whip up. Harrys lips swollen and shiny with spit, his pupils blown wide over the famous green eyes that held unsplit tears. 

A tiny smile from the dark hair boy before he returned to his work and Draco let his head fall back and his shoulders drop in relief. 

Let go. Let go…He did. 

The first thing he became aware of was Harry’s hands on his hips pushing him back against the wall and he was relieved. He was sure if he wasn’t being pinned there he would have fallen to his knees as he shook with the tremors post orgasm. He could feel Harrys face tucked into the place where his hip became leg. His hot tongue still working, kissing, licking and sucking little marks on to his skin. He let his hands cup the back of Harrys head tenderly for a moment, the soft haze of the moment taking his better judgement from him

“Okay?” said Harry softly into his skin as he continued his tender assault on any skin he could reach with his lips.

Draco closed his fingers, catching the inky hair in his fist and gently pulled till Harry’s head fell back exposing his throat. His eyes weary for a moment as he looked up at Draco and then suddenly sad. 

“I never know when you’ll let me…” 

The words filled the silence between them and caught Draco totally unprepared, like a mouthful of spirits when you’re expecting water. 

Draco swallowed tightly, but otherwise remained still. Holding Harry’s hair in his fist, looking down at a boy he’d spent half his life hating on his knees before him, his throat exposed and eyes pleading… Everything about the tableaux would tell you Draco held all the cards and yet he was at a loss. 

“I know” His said in a voice that didn’t sound like his own.

Harry blinked up at him, licked his lips and swallowed. 

“I can’t do this much longer Draco”

The words landed like a punch to his gut. He released his grip on the smaller man’s hair and cupped the back of head as Harry had his at the start of this, their most recent decent into madness. He pulled Harry back towards him, wrapping his other arm around the back of Harry’s neck and pressing his cheek to him, flat against his stomach. The soft part of him that Harry had huffed a joyful little laugh into earlier. 

“I know’ he whispered back.


End file.
